


Undone

by Artemis-M (dicyfer)



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Angst, Brotherly Love, Chitauri - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, JUST brotherly, Loki Feels, thor is not an idiot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:25:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicyfer/pseuds/Artemis-M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was supposed to go to Asgard. Instead, they took him back. To them. To the ones that caught him when he fell, the creatures that inhabited his nightmares and forced his actions. They weren't supposed to take him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from FF.net (http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8239762/1/Undone). Unfortunately on hiatus until summer or Avengers-related inspiration. (I'm looking at you, Iron Man 3).

How easily the best of plans are laid to waste, Loki thinks spitefully, though the thought occurs only fleetingly, the hint of his usual loathing drowned beneath the torrent of absolute terror.

“This is not Asgard,” he states. For once he is unashamed of the waver that marks his voice. He is not above pandering to Thor’s emotions for this. Though if Thor were anything more than the unthinking idiot he was, he would’ve needed to hear no waver to detect Loki’s distress. The very instance of the God of Mischief stating the obvious would’ve signified that something was very wrong.

Dark violet galaxies spiral around them, distant stars shimmer and flash like hatefully optimistic reminders that there is warmth beyond this cold collection of rocks suspended in space. The rocks seem made of shadows: movement gains an ambiguous meaning, with forms continually shifting as if watching their every move. Loki knows that they are.

“We are in the realm of the Chitauri,” Thor says, and Loki thinks that Thor does not understand at all what this means. Already, he can feel is heart beginning to race, the edges of his vision blurring with hideous fear.

“I thought I was meant to be taken to Asgard,” Loki breathes rapidly. “What is this, brother, why have you taken me here?” He catches his own slip half way through the sentence but it is too late. If Thor notices, Loki doesn’t care. What is left to care about? Family ties will be meaningless if Thor is about to do what he thinks.

“The Allfather has decided it best for you to finish what you started,” Thor says, and looks at Loki as if he were wise. His eyes hold the sorrow of a brother, and the coldness of a king. “The Chitauri will provide as fit a punishment as could be devised in Asgard. This way, we need not worry about tensions between our realms.”

It is those naïve blue eyes that set Loki’s hands shaking. He feels his face crack into a smile. “You have no idea—“ he wants to explain, he wants to cry out and he wants to split Thor’s skull in frustration and anger but his hands remain bound. He want describe the tortures they put him through when he fell into their grasp, he wants to tell of the bright red pain, the searing agony, the unrelenting violence and laughter driving him to an insanity so deep even he was capable of recognizing it. He wants to say. His mouth remains shut, lips wavering from the lingering pain of the muzzle.

“You are to remain here, under their control, until they decree your punishment to be fulfilled,” says Thor. “I will then retrieve you to be taken back to Asgard. From there you will be forbidden to travel between the realms. Your magic will be bound.”

Loki closes his eyes. It is too much. He would rather the latter half of the punishment occur now, plus whatever else the Asgardians can think of, and save him from millennia with the Chitauri—for he knows they will not be satisfied with mere centuries. They will only let him free when there is nothing left.

The shaking has increased to envelope his entire body, the memories of what they did before threaten to cloud his vision. “Brother, please, you don’t know—“ he begins, but Thor silences him with a look.

“I would cherish that you call me brother, if I did not know it were simply manipulation.” He looks sad, so sure of what he sees and hears and never bothering to search deeper, to _interpret_ , and Loki _hates_ him more than he ever has in this moment. He tried to tell him, he tried to tell him…

There are tears slipping down Loki’s face. He doesn’t know when that happened. His heart is beating faster and faster, as if that would somehow prevent it from freezing over. He doesn’t want to accept it. For once, he has no back-up plan. He had done everything perfectly: either he wins Midgard for the Chitauri and never deals with them again, or he is returned to Asgard to face his punishment, terrible but safe from the Chitauri’s infinitely more terrifying grasp.

But the Allfather has ruined him. Thor has ruined him. Their damned ignorance, their misguided righteousness… Loki thought he knew what hate was before. He had never intended to find out how much worse it’s black tendrils could be.

He can’t bring himself to say anymore. He keeps his gaze downward and attempts to control his breathing. His arms strain against their bonds, though not as if he expects to actually be able to break them. His mind is in a loop. He can see no way out of this. He is doomed.

“I am sorry, Loki,” Thor says gently, as if he believes his words will be a comfort. “But you have brought this upon yourself.”

Loki’s vision blanks in anger.

“Good bye, brother.”

The roar and flash of the Bifrost is all Loki knows for a second, before the darkness rushes in. The shifting forms manifest themselves into the creatures that have inhabited his nightmares since he arrived on Midgard.

Loki backs into something hard and presses himself against it as the Chitauri slowly advance on him.

“You have _failed_ ,” one of them hisses.

“And you know what that failure means,” whispers another.

“What tortures you have known from us will be multiplied one-hundred-fold. When we are done, there will be nothing left for the Asgardian to retrieve…”

Loki screams.


	2. 2

When Thor arrives back on Midgard, it’s to a team of SHIELD agents prepared with an array of scientific instruments and measurement devices. A few of them jump at his sudden coming to existence, but for the most part, they remain focused on their instruments.

“Welcome back to Earth,” one of them steps forward and Thor nods his head in greeting.

“Have your instruments been successful?” Thor asks. Before he had left, Fury asked him if he would return at a specific time and place in order for SHIELD to study more about inter-realm travel.

“We’ll need time to work through the data,” the agent says stoically. Thor wonders if all SHIELD agents were taught to cast out emotion. It is a trait he finds foreign, yet admires in a certain way. He has learned that emotions can be deceiving.

This thought reminds him of Loki, and his heart clenches in sorrow. His brother had seemed distraught when he left him with the Chitauri, but Thor knew not to be fooled by anything Loki said. Not for the first time, Thor wonders what had gone wrong. What had happened to the brother he knew and loved? He had been so sure that Loki intended to die when he let go of the spear so long ago on the fragmented edge of the Bifrost. It had pained his heart night and day, until he learned that Loki was on Midgard, terrorizing its people and putting the woman he loved in danger.

He wants to embrace his brother, hear his forgiveness and take him back to Asgard where he might stay, recover. Thor wants his family back. But he has spoken with Odin, heard his words of wisdom, and Thor knows that Loki has chosen his own path. Now he must face the consequences as Thor had done when he childishly invaded Jotunheim.

Perhaps Loki will learn, as he did.

“I’ll escort you to the Avengers base,” says the agent.

When Thor arrives, he is greeted by the rest of the Avengers in the common room. They look serious, but he notices some of their faces have a brightness he had not seen when they had been fighting Loki.

“My friends!” He greets them with a smile. They all nod politely, and Thor takes his seat.

Steve looks up and says “Sorry to be so formal, Thor, but we’ve got to know: so what’s the situation with Loki? Is he locked up for good?”

Thor nods gravely. “He has been taken back to the realm of the Chitauri, as was decreed by the Allfather.

Natasha Romanov speaks up at that. “But he was in league with the Chitauri from the beginning. Why would sending him back be a good idea?”

Thor is about to explain when he is surprised by Clint Barton’s voice.

“Because they threatened to punish him if he failed to take over Earth.”

Clint seems just as surprised that he has spoken. But when he notices the rest of the group staring at him, he rubs a hand on his neck and continues. “When I was… being controlled, he talked about them. Now that I think about it, it seemed more like they were the ones pulling all the strings. For a guy set on taking over the world, his reasoning wasn’t very sound. I mean, he didn’t even like it here. Half the time he ever spoke it was about how much better Asgard is, how humans are worthless, blah blah.”

There is silence for a moment.

“But he was still using the Chitauri to accomplish his goal,” Natasha says, looking at Clint. “We all saw. He was the one that brought them here, he _wanted_ them here.”

Thor is beginning to feel an uncomfortable chill crawling up his spine. There is a moment from the battle with the Chitauri that still bothers him.

Clint looks thoughtful. “I remember he had nightmares.”

This causes the whole group to shift in curiosity.

“Nightmares?” Bruce speaks up. “The guy actually let you around him when he slept?”

“What I wouldn’t give to see a sleeping _god_ ,” says Tony.

“Well, I mean, I was under his _control_ ,” says Clint, beginning to regret speaking up. “I—the only thing I wanted to do was protect him, you know? He was in my head. But I watched him _writhe_ in his sleep. He would say—he would beg for the, the pain to stop. He was scared shitless of these guys. They definitely did something to him.”

“Then I guess it is a good thing we sent him back,” Natasha says coolly.

But Clint is finding himself increasingly drawn into the memories of his captivity. Once Natasha had knocked Loki out of his head, he had felt nothing but anger and hatred about what had happened. He purposely refused to remember any of Loki’s actions that were less than evil. But the news of Loki’s punishment is bringing everything back.

“He… Loki, he talked a lot actually. About you—“ he looks at Thor, “and about Asgard. But never about his plan, or what he intended to do with the Chitauri. They didn’t seem like friends, more like enemies. He couldn’t wait to be rid of them, in fact.”

The chill in Thor’s spine manifests itself into a coldness clinging to his entire body. Was he wrong? Was Loki truly being used by the Chitauri, rather than the other way around? If so, he had sent his brother into the worst of traps.

Suddenly, he remembers what has been bothering him about the battle. He and Loki were struggling on the roof of Stark’s tower.

“Look around you!” Thor had pleaded, and Loki actually complied. In that moment, something had changed in his brother. Thor had seen regret, sadness, pain. But Loki was too smart for his own good, Thor realized now. He had covered up his moment of weakness with a knife to Thor’s side. Thor had thought that moment symbolized their rupture as brothers forever.

_“It’s too late. It’s too late to stop it..”_

Loki could have easily killed him. Why didn’t he? Why the moment of weakness? Why only a small dagger when he could have easily torn out his heart?

“Thor, you doing alright there, buddy?” Steve speaks and Thor meets his blue eyes.

“I fear I have made a grave mistake,” he says slowly.

Tony smirks but his face remains serious.“What, you don’t actually think there’s anything he _doesn’t_ deserve? After what he did? I’m sorry Thor, maybe Earth isn’t that special to you, but this is my _home_. He killed thousands of people. So what if the Chitauri rough him up a bit. He’s lucky he isn’t getting death.”

Thor feels anger swell in him even as he tries to force himself to agree with Tony.

“I must remind you that he is my brother, no matter the false path he has chosen. I believe that his punishment should reflect his intent, not just the seriousness of his crime.”

“If he were tried on Earth, he would’ve been executed,” Natasha says flatly.

There is a pause, then Bruce says “Sorry Thor, I agree with Tony on this one.”

Clint is staring hard at his clasped hands. Steve has his lips pressed into a flat line, his expression grim.

“I’ve never liked the idea of execution,” Steve begins, “I don’t think that’s what we should be comparing this to. Thor, what exactly are you worried about with the Chitauri? You talked with your father about this, and together you made a decision. Why have doubts now?”

Thor looks uncomfortable. He glances at Clint, then at the center of the room.

“Perhaps I have always had doubts. You know Loki only as a source of chaos and evil. I know him as a brother. When he fell from the Bifrost, I thought him dead. Seeing his actions on Midgard, speaking to him, I still never regained the brother I lost. He changed. Or was changed. Even he, with all his powers as sorcerer, could not have controlled where he fell. It is possible that he would fall into the realm of the Chitauri, where in his weakened state they could have… taken advantage of him.”

Clint winces and Thor looks his way. “Hawkeye, you have seen my brother without his guard up. You say he had nightmares. Do you believe what I have said to be true?”

Clint keeps his gaze down, and the rest of the group watches him fidget.

“I… don’t know. I really hate sympathizing with the guy who forced me to, to do all that. And the guy who basically wrecked all of New York. I don’t want to be what you base all this on. But… I’d say, from what I observed, you’re right.” Clint looks up at Thor. “I’d say that Loki was tortured pretty badly if it caused the nightmares he was having. Probably not the only reason, but a big reason for wanting to take over Earth was just trying to appease them.”

Thor decides then that something must be done.

“I’m sorry, my friends,” he says. “I know that Loki is your enemy, but I think it my duty to return to the Allfather to reassess his punishment. I swear to you it will be just and he will not be able to return to Midgard.”

“Whatever you need to do Thor,” Steve replies. “We left his punishment in your control for a reason. Just… make sure he doesn’t escape, okay?”

Thor nods, and stands to leave.


	3. 3

_You will beg for something as sweet as pain_ …

There are brief moments of horrible lucidity, where the nameless being that knows nothing but the tearing of flesh, the monochrome of reds, and the unending agony, regains self-awareness and remembers his name is Loki, and he was once a prince of Asgard.

There are moments when his tormentors retreat to let his wounds heal, only to tear them open anew. In the beginning the Chitauri come in waves, as if they recognize that providing relief makes the promise of torment all the more terrible. But when he begins to predict their coming and going, when he tries to prepare himself, they change. Now when he receives a reprieve, he knows not if they will return in a few minutes, or a few days.

There are moments when flinching away from their advances causes just as much agony, and he can only scream as they puncture him, burn him, violate him. When is able to crack his eyes open, he sees skin bleeding alternately red and blue. He knows his magic is failing. The silent spark he’s known all is life flickers in his chest. The threads of energy slip from his grasp.

The deep cold that has settled on his skin begins to sink deeper into him, as if seeking refuge from the surface wounds they inflict. He thinks he hates that the most: feeling his body revert to its true form in an attempt to save itself. But hate is such a trivial word, now. Hate is the given, unremarkable. As is the pain.

He tries to lose himself in his mind, let his consciousness drift away until the pain is a simple buzzing in the background, but the Chitauri don’t allow him even that escape.

“The Allfather was right to cast you out as he did. You were a poison among the Asgardians, the quicksilver that tarnished their gold.”

“See how easily your dearest Thor sends you to your doom? He delights in your pain. He blames you for his banishment. He is disgusted to have once thought of you as a brother.”

“You deserve everything we do to you. The universe has decreed you  worthless. Do you not think you were abandoned on Jotunheim for a reason? Even the monstrous frost giants could sense the failure in you. Odin took you with politics in his heart, not love or compassion. He quickly realized his mistake, didn’t he?”

“Your life is a lie. No wonder the truth never escapes your lips. But here, this is the truth: you will never escape. Your body knows it. You disintegrate before us.”

“Behold the frost giant, makes play he’s still a _god_.”

They whisper to him through jagged teeth, so close to his ears he can feel their hot breath searing his skin. Each remark drags him back to the present, to the rending of flesh, the invasion and desecration of everything he is.

He begins to lose himself. Slowly, slowly, they peel away the layers: He is evil, an enemy of earth. He is falling, a cast-off son. He jealous, an overlooked brother. He is young, a promising student. He is Jotun, a mistake.

He is nothing, as it should be.


	4. 4

The golden halls of Asgard radiate with warmth, and despite Thor’s grim thoughts, he feels himself relax in their presence. Every passing figure nods in acknowledgement, smiling at Asgard’s golden prince.

However, his heart feels torn. He misses Jane. He misses his brother. What happiness has he without them?

His thoughts churn endlessly. He wishes to be a wise ruler. He has been made acutely aware that his decisions even as a prince will resonate throughout time and Yggdrasil. But he has yet to master the art of discerning between heart and mind. What his heart wishes, what it _knows_ , is not the same as what his mind rationalizes. His heart breaks at the thought that Loki has been a victim all this time. His mind scoffs and shows him memory after memory of Loki’s treachery.

But he cannot have doubts now, not when preparing to face his father.

A few well-remembers turns and Thor reaches the throne room. The guards on either side of the door bow and Thor takes a deep breath before walking inside.

When Odin sees him, he stands.

“Thor Odinson, prince of Asgard,” Odin addresses him, “For what reason have you returned so early from Midgard?”

Thor walks forward and pauses before the throne. “Father, I would speak to you as your son, freely.” He looks up to see Odin measuring him with his single eye. After a moment, Odin waves a hand and dismisses the servants and other members of the court present. When the echoes of footsteps fade, Odin turns back to his son.

“What concerns you, Thor?”

“I have returned with new knowledge of Loki. I have reason to believe we have made the wrong decision in leaving him to the Chitauri.”

Odin stiffens. “Must I explain to you again, Thor? Loki has made his choice. He was the one who formed an alliance with the Chitauri. It is within their rights to execute his punishment. And it is not within our rights to deny them. If we took him from them, it would bring the threat of war. I will not have your feelings be the cause of another catastrophe.”

Thor looks down to hide a flinch. “But father, what if Loki did not make the alliance willingly? What if he was acting only under their threat? Or the influence of the tesseract? Is it not wise to consider the intentions of an act, not just the outcome?”

Odin lets out a breath that might have been considered a sigh, coming from any other person. But the Allfather does not sigh.

Thor rushes on, if only to prevent his father from speaking an immediate disapproval. “I love Loki dearly, father. But I swear to you I speak only out of a desire for justice. A man, a member of the Avengers, was briefly under Loki’s influence on Midgard. He has confided to me that Loki feared the Chitauri. He was not in his right mind. He had _nightmares_.”

“And what exactly would you have me do, Thor?” Odin remains still, ever the regal presence. “Listen to yourself. Your only proof is the testimony of a single mortal man, one who you’ve already admitted was under Loki’s control. Loki is a liar, he could easily manipulate another in the same way.”

Thor quiets the bloom of fury in his chest, and attempts to keep his voice civil. “Father, forgive me, but you do not know the people with whom I have fought on Midgard. I would trust each of them with my life. I believe Hawkeye’s words.”

“What you believe is not always true,” Odin states. “I would have thought you had learned this lesson by now.”

“Yes, father, I understand. But there is a chance that Loki is experiencing something far worse than he ever deserved with the Chitauri—“

“Enough.” Odin booms, his voice echoing through the hall in finality. “I will hear no more of this. Your brother is a murderer and a liar. I had hoped that after he fell he would realize his mistakes and return to us. But he did not. He made his choice, Thor. I will not say it again. You should understand this, as you witnessed his treachery on Midgard first-hand.”

“Yes, father, but he—“

“His punishment stands,” Odin decrees loudly. After a moment, wherein Thor struggles to keep himself from standing and leaving disrespectfully, Odin softens his voice and bows his head. “Thor, perhaps you think me heartless. I still love Loki as his father, but I am king of Asgard before that. And I must make the proper, just decision. You have much to learn.”

Thor presses his mouth shut, and nods.

“I will trust your wisdom father… though I struggle to accept it.”

“You are dismissed, Thor.”

Thor nods and stands quickly. He turns from his father and walks from the room with heavy footsteps. On the other side of the door to the throne room, the temporarily exiled servants back away in fearful respect. The sound of thunder can be heard distantly outside the halls.

Thor attempts to control it, but he cannot. His heart is screaming at him. He tries desperately to think of something he can do. The time passed since he left Loki is already the equivalent of weeks in the realm of the Chitauri. Urgency presses him. As much as his father’s rejection angers him, he realizes that he should have known that the words of a mortal would do nothing to sway the Allfather. He needs proof. He needs to see with his own eyes what has become of his brother.

He gives himself a direction, where before he had been simply wandering to think. He heads towards the repaired edge of the Bifrost—and Heimdall.

Soon he treads not on stone, but on light. The swirling rainbow of colors used to fascinate him as a boy. He and Loki used to—

Thor hides the memory away before it can torment him further. Soon Heimdall’s towering figure is before him, and Thor prepares himself for another attempt at convincing. Before he can say a word, however, Heimdall speaks.

 “Beware, Thor,” the deep-voiced man says as he approaches, “you mustn’t repeat your childish actions on Jotunheim.”

Thor stops a few feet away from Heimdall and assumes what he hopes is a regal stance. “I am aware of my responsibilities as prince, Gatekeeper. I am a different man than I was before. I come only to ask for a favor.”

“Then I will do what is in my power to aid the Prince of Asgard,” Heimdall replies after a moment.

Thor nods in thanks and takes a deep breath. “Can you see Loki? How fares he with the Chitauri?”

Heimdall’s gaze turns to the stars, his face expressionless. After a moment, he turns back to Thor. “Loki is hidden from me…” the raise in his voice is the only hint that he is perplexed.

“How can that be?” Thor demands. “The Chitauri should be preventing him from using magic, he could not possibly be able to hide himself like before. Unless he has escaped…” Despite Thor’s love, the thought horrifies him.

“Loki is in the realm of the Chitauri.” Heimdall says firmly, and Thor pauses to wait for clarification. “I can see… parts of him, there.” Heimdall raises a finger and points unhelpfully at a specific place in the stars. “But something is clouding my view. Not blocking it. I do not believe Loki to be the source.”

Thor is silent. Mjölnir is in his grasp and he finds himself working his fingers on the handle as he thinks. “Heimdall, you know that I must ensure my brother is not being… mistreated. I would go there, though I understand your oath is to serve Odin. Allow me this and I swear to you I will not disobey my father.”

Heimdall fixes him with a gaze that reflects the fires of the stars he searches daily. Thor matches it as well he can.

After a moment, Heimdall’s expression seems to unfocus. His eyes clear as if looking at something far away, beyond Thor, beyond even Asgard. “And what would you do, Thor, Prince of Asgard, if you found Loki’s state to be not to your liking? How strong is your oath? How easily would the fractured bond of brotherhood rend the blood-ties of father and son?”

Thor looks at the vague milky collection of stars to which Heimdall had pointed, and gathers himself. “Loki is, and always will be, my brother, no matter his heritage,” he says firmly. “I love both my father and him. I believe the Allfather would trust my judgment. I do not act on emotion, I swear it. I have seen the atrocities Loki committed and I know he must pay for them. I am merely concerned with the Chitauri. I do not believe we can trust them. If I obtain proof that my father accepts, surely no bond or oath is broken.”

Heimdall is silent for a moment, then turns from Thor and begins walking towards the end of the Bifrost. At first Thor believes he has failed, but Heimdall raises a hand, a motion for him to follow. Thor feels a small smile of triumph spread across his face, but it shatters against his worry. He grips Mjölnir tightly and makes his way towards the gateway to all other realms—to Loki.


	5. Chapter 5

When the blaze of the Bifrost has finally left his vision, Thor blinks and looks around him. Eventually the black shadows form themselves into the same rocky landscape in which he had left Loki. He takes a step forward and scans the area for any movement. He sees and hears nothing.

“I am Thor, Prince of Asgard,” he announces into the empty air. “I would speak with one who leads this realm.” The sound of his voice seems strangely flat, as if the numerous cliffs and jagged corners were absorbing it rather than amplifying it as he would expect. No echo. The effect is strangely claustrophobic.

He hears no reply. Thor takes a few more steps without direction. The air seems to be cooling. He finds himself wishing for Hogun’s acute senses or Sif’s sharp eyes as he squints at the landscape, examining every crevasse for a sign of life.

“I grow impatient, Chitauri!” he calls out. “Reveal yourselves: I know you to be here. I come with respect, though I expect the same courtesy to be shown to me!”

Thor hears a crackling sound and turns to its source, but sees only a flat wall of rock. His grip on Mjölnir tightens.

“Chitauri, you—“

“We know what you’re here for, son of Odin,” a slow voice screeches.

Thor presses his mouth and waits. Slowly, one of the Chitauri emerges from a dark corner that Thor had sworn was empty. The creature’s hideous smile is hardly the worst Thor has seen in all his travels, yet somehow the sight of it makes him angrier than he would have expected. He associates his brother with these monsters. His ever-regal, elegant brother. And to see this, such an ugly creature, as one of Loki’s captors, Thor feels himself more and more convinced that Loki would never have made an alliance with the Chitauri willingly. Loki would trick them, he would use them. To declare an alliance, and to be bound by it, implies an equality that Thor knows Loki would never accept. The Chitauri seemed pathetic to Thor on Earth, impressive only in their numbers. There was none of the great intelligence that Loki would respect, and none of the brute strength that might over-power him. So what was it? What had his brother done to put himself in such a position?

Thor raises Mjölnir, though only slightly, in a gesture meant to be as threatening as possible without acting in a manner that could lead to an accusation of rudeness or hostility. The creature doesn’t acknowledge it.

“If you know what I’m here for,” Thor begins, “then give it to me. Let me see my brother. Loki, your prisoner.”

The creature cackles and Thor gets the distinct feeling that there are more of them: watching and laughing along with him among the shadows. He begins to feel as if what he had dismissed as large rocks or other random features of the land were actually the Chitauri all along.

The laughing finally dies down, and suddenly the creature rushes up to Thor as if to attack. Thor detects the feint easily and doesn’t budge, maintaining a hard stare. Just inches away from his face, the creature snickers. After a moment it retreats and begins a slow pacing.

“You speak as if you have the ability to fulfill your desires, should we refuse to accommodate you,” it sneers. “Never overestimate, son of Odin, the power that we hold, the power of the one who guides us. The Trickster is our property. You couldn’t possibly understand the bond that holds him here.”

“Then explain,” Thor growls. “There should be nothing that at least prevents me from seeing him in order to make sure he is treated fairly.”

“Fairly?!” The creature screeches and again Thor feels as if there are more of them mimicking its words. How else would it’s voice echo so profoundly while his dies mere inches from his mouth?

“There is no ‘fair’ in this contract, son of Odin,” the creature continues. “There is only success and failure. The Jotun-runt failed. He suffers the consequences.”

“You will address my brother by his proper name: Loki, son of Odin, and son of Asgard!”

“His lies have truly penetrated deep for even you to believe them so completely.”

Thor closes his eyes briefly and growls. “Enough! If my brother is not presented to me, I will leave and return with the full might of Asgard behind me. I doubt, judging by the pitiful state of your realm, that you could survive the wrath of the House of Odin.”

“What you see of the Chitauri Realm is what we wish you to see. However, because it amuses us, we will show you to your brother. But no matter your judgment, we will continue to treat him as we like. It would take powers unfathomable to break him from our bond.” 

\--

Loki thinks he hears the sound of his brother. This happens often.

Once Thor appeared to him and offered his hand. Loki remembers staring hard at the hand. The same calloused, strong hand he’s always associated with his brother. The hand that, as children, was always offered in kindness. As adults, always offered, it seemed, in a gesture of disapproval, mocking. Loki learned to disdain that hand.

But this time, Loki wanted nothing more than to take it and feel himself pulled up by strong, loving arms and into a safe embrace. He wanted it with such intensity that eventually tears obscured his vision and Thor morphed into a glowing blur surrounded by the black abyss he’d known for so long.

Loki began to lift his arm. Every torn muscle screamed, every bruise and chipped bone and frayed nerve called out in horrible agony. But still he reached. Up. Up. So close…

When finally he felt he could move his arm no higher, Thor’s hand clasped his. It was cold. With sudden clarity Loki saw Thor’s face twisted with anger and hatred.

“You have disgraced me, Loki! You have disgraced Asgard! You will never be worthy of my love. You were never even worthy of life. My father should have left you in that frozen wasteland to rot!”

Loki’s hand was dwarfed in his brother’s and he felt the grip tightening and tightening.

As the tension slowly increased, Loki clenched his eyes and opened his mouth, though he emitted no sound but a harsh dry whimper. He never meant for this—he never wanted it. It all started so simple. So simple it seemed. But there was something rotten in him, he’d realized. Something so terribly wrong. He spent his life learning and analyzing and assuming he was capable of the greatest feats of manipulation and control. He thought he could serve his kingdom justly. In the end, he only suffered. Every plan turned to pain. Every word disregarded.

The first finger snapped. Loki gasped and Thor laughed sadistically. Loki knew Thor’s laugh. He knew it like he knew his own childhood, the sound drenched in memories. But this laughter, this Thor—was false. Suddenly Thor’s image splintered before him, and he saw the Chitauri surrounding him, laughing and fighting over which of his nails they would eat once they were pulled from his shattered fingers.

That’s right, he thought with a sudden numbness. Thor’s hate would be a blessing. This is the curse.

The memory slips away, replacing one darkness with another. It’s getting harder for Loki to tell the difference. He tries to remember his hatred. It’s there, somewhere in what is left of him. Maybe the only thing left of him: some glistening drop of green-laced anger, left to slowly evaporate at the bottom of this pit, this Chitauri hell-hole.

Loki feels the barest hint of a laugh escape his bleeding lips. He doesn’t know why it’s there. He no longer has the energy for spite, can no longer find even a meager satisfaction in self-pity. And yet, there it is. More of a scoff, really. Maybe it’s simply his body reacting to some pain his mind can no longer acknowledge. Though he thought he had abandoned that coping mechanism long ago.

He sees Thor again, suddenly. How odd for the Chitauri to repeat themselves so quickly.

The image approaches, this time assuming the appearance of Thor as if he were horrified. Loki thinks that now his mind is truly gone. Thor is incapable of being shocked like that. His face looks entirely wrong, ridiculous even.

Maybe that was why Loki laughed, Thor’s face is stretching out into a wraith-like expression of horror. It looks so odd. Wait, no. He laughed before he saw Thor. No, because Thor was there first, breaking his hand. No—that was the Chitauri, that was days ago. Though perhaps it had only been a few minutes? Now the image is closer and there are words attached to it. Words like

“brother

“oh my dearest brother

“what have they done to you

“oh please, oh please, no

“Loki, Loki

“I’m so sorry

“I’ll destroy them

“I will take you from here

“I didn’t know please forgive me.”

The hands do not reach out as before, but instead flutter like butterflies over his body. Loki knows he is not being touched and yet he burns, he shakes, and wants this one to go away because for some reason even though the Chitauri have Thor all wrong this time (hands far too gentle, unsteady, the voice cracking), it hurts more than the others. He didn’t think he could hurt more.

It occurs to him that he might ask the apparition to stop. But why? Why ask? When he was first left in  captivity he’d refused to speak except to comment on the futility of their endeavor, to mock their pathetic attempts at torturing _him_ , a god. And then there was a period of time where he begged and pleaded and cried out and used every word, phrase, and trick of speech he knew to stop the pain. But their words were more potent. It wasn’t long afterwards that he simply could not speak. He could scream, but he could not mold the shredded sound into language.

And now here is this “Thor,” and Loki wishes to speak, the lesson quickly unlearned.

He opens his mouth, though only a dry whine escapes. Millions of worlds and lives away, he would surely be ashamed of the pathetic attempt. And yet here, he simply cannot spare the energy to be ashamed.

_Go, go… if you must help then end me. Let me succeed where I failed before._

Just as that thought clarifies itself in Loki’s mind, the apparition touches him, and suddenly Loki knows with absolute certainty that this Thor is real. The concrete nature of the revelation dizzies him even as it pulls him back from his mind’s murky haze. His brother is truly here.

It is not love, nor some brotherly bond that tells Loki the truth. It is the white flash of agony, the most powerful magical barrier Loki has ever encountered that sears his body and launches Thor backwards. No one but Thor could activate it so strongly. Despite everything they’d gone through, Loki was never closer to anyone than he was to Thor. But Loki belongs to the Chitauri now, to that awful being. He swore an oath sealed with his soul. Once left with them, he could never be taken away again.

Thor didn’t know. No one knew. Loki made sure his shame would remain forever buried. They would take him back to Asgard, he need never see the Chitauri again.

They would take him back to Asgard, he need never fear them again.

They would take him back to Asgard, and slowly, slowly he might redeem himself.

They would take him back to Asgard, and he could forget.

They would take him back to Asgard…

But they didn’t.

Loki finds his words again. There is no hint of the gentle, calculating voice of his past self. In one horrifying burst, the scream rips through his throat.

“THOR!”

He watches his brother’s face turn pale, where before it had been colored red with rage and worry. It satisfies him a little, reminds him of the power he used to wield over the emotions of others.  But every emotion now to him feels dulled. He can identify them but somehow no longer empathize. He feels himself shaking and now screaming and crying and he knows that he must be angry or sad or something of that nature. But he can only make the diagnoses based off of the symptoms. He cannot palpate his own heart.

Thor is attempting to reach him again through the barrier. Loki can see that Mjölnir weighs heavy in his hands. He wishes to use it, but is too fearful of injuring Loki. Which may be for the best, Loki thinks. He doubts he’d survive any more pressure from the barrier. Thor might kill him by simply trying to force it open with his hands. Even now, as Thor presses against the white shield that separates them, Loki feels his hand as if it is reaching into him to tear him in two. He might tell Thor this, now that he can speak.

He doesn’t.

Thor yells something like

“Loki

“brother I’m here for you

and to Loki’s distant surprise, Thor is slowly managing to pierce the barrier. One by one, his finger tips push through, until his whole hand is there, just barely moving forward to touch Loki’s chest. Loki can feel the vibrating pressure increasing. He can barely keep air in his lungs. He takes a gasping breath and manages a few more words.

“No, Thor, don’t—“

When the contact is made, Loki has only a few moments to think that he is no longer in pain before darkness takes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Infinite apologies but this is where it ends for now. If this fic is still generating any interest, I would love any feedback! It will definitely be continuing in the future.


	6. Chapter 6

For a while he is conscious only of a horrible pressure consuming him, a million hooks pulling at him, a hammer cracking down and pressing, pressing.

_I am dying_ , he thinks. _I am dying. I am dying. I am dying._

The thought repeats itself endlessly, no others interrupt. He cannot say who “I” is, or what the word “dying” means. But he knows this phrase as utter truth. The only truth. To question it, to even consider its meaning, is impossible.

He drifts…

A shocking moment occurs without warning. A new thought: golden, sweet, it cuts through him and suddenly he knows _I am in pain_.

_I am in pain_. _I am in pain_. _I am in pain_. _I am dying. I am in pain. I am dying._

The “I” still eludes him, and this new word “pain” feels foreign compared to the now comforting sound of “dying.”

He alternates between the two for an eternity…

When that eternity ends, he suddenly understands “pain,” and he does not like it.

Pain is the uncontrollable storm of words and sounds, images, emotions, _thoughts_ crashing through him. Or they are him. He still hasn’t figured out “I,” but now there is

_a dark world, a cliff “you come home” “I don’t have it” I’m listening he’s not but watch_ Let’s see what you can do, brother _one must pity the forest_

_a cold world, horrific sound a flesh sound “damn” stabs and ice_ I should burn I do not burn _a creature reversed walker farther father_

_a warm room, abandoned friends of paper and a twist of green between fingers a new mirror friend_ I did it _golden “make it go away”_

_an empty void, silent sobs a nothing a “no” the only option_ death so be it _push away away away away enveloped mourning black_

_an end, deep laughter the hand_ why do they not kill me _a POWER rattling gold “bound to me” ripped torn shredded halved not death not death not death--_

He thinks he might be screaming, but it is a fragmented sound. He is unsure if he is hearing himself or a memory. It  is a chorus of a thousand voices, piecing themselves together into a distinct echo of pain.

The deluge won’t stop. It won’t stop and he is drowning in it, no chance to pause and understand, the images and feelings and emotions knifing into him relentlessly.

A form is beginning to manifest itself, however. Distorted and crippled, yet familiar. It settles around him-- it _is_ him. An awareness growing and taking shape into a body. The sense of suffocation suddenly becomes overwhelming and he gasps, then is startled when he hears the sound of it.

The images don’t fade, they don’t stop. But they are no longer what he is made of. Now there is a sense of containment, they are inside of him. And he is--is here. Gasping, breathing, feeling limbs that were never there before, and hearing now a frantic pounding heartbeat in addition to his sharp inhalations.

He tastes iron, and a strange sweetness. He has a mouth, there are few teeth in it. He can twitch his fingers and is rewarded with a comforting flare of pain. His breaths become more labored, and each is a struggle against pain, weakness making every desperate heave feel worthless and inadequate.

From there, the pieces fall into place more and more frantically. He can’t keep up, can’t adjust, consider, it just happens and happens and happens until

 

He is lying in a bed of some type. The sheets are strangely soft, and the sensation is so alien he almost feels as if he were floating. There is a light blanket draped over him, and his head is on a pillow. He can taste the lingering remains of something achingly familiar. He feels something cool drifting over him, a breeze. The sweat-drenched skin of his face makes it feel cold. A delicate scent drifts through the air. His arms are resting above the sheets, though they are wrapped in bandages. He can tell because the breeze does not hit them in the same way, and his skin feels stiff. His whole body feels stiff, as if every inch of skin were a scab.

His awareness follows the breeze, surmises an open window. He is in a room. He is being cared for. He is on a bed.

There is someone else in the room.

He feels his whole body jerk unwillingly in fearful surprise. The pain that splits through him only makes him writhe briefly before he is exhausted. He suddenly realizes that he has been missing an important piece of his own puzzle.

When he opens his eyes, the flood of light is unbearable. He shuts them quickly and tries to cover his face with his hands, but his arms won’t move. He groans pitifully and attempts to control the pain, but now his head is throbbing.

But no, sight wasn’t it. There is something else missing. Something else, a sense, or a component of some type. Something important.

“Loki.”

His eyes fly open once more, but this time the pain doesn’t stop him. The brilliant white world begins to soften and coalesce in to vague shapes and forms.

He feels his mouth opening as if to speak, but he can think of nothing to say.

_Loki_. A name, but more:

The God of Mischief, God of Lies, Trickster.

The titles ring strangely hollow to him. He can sense his connection to them but cannot embody them.

“Loki…”

There it is again. It feels uncomfortable to hear it. He wishes the other person would stop saying it.

Who is that other person?

“Loki, can you hear me?”

He knows the voice. The sound embodies an ancient power and a word: father.

Odin. Odin Allfather. Odin _not his father_. Odin, the one-eyed who controlled his fate. A shackle on his ankle he’d tried to break and break but could never scratch. A lie painted over his skin, a lie painted onto his tongue.

The one who’d allowed him to be returned to the Chitauri.

An immense and dreadful fear begins to turn in Loki’s stomach. This one will hurt him, just like the others. Even if he felt he could turn his head he doesn’t want to see that face, the single eye, the judgment and the hatred.

He keeps his gaze focused on the ceiling. His vision has recovered enough that he can make out the gold leaf and wood detailing of Asgard. His mind says then that he is in Asgard, but the knowledge of it feels distant. Everything around him is like a vision obtained through a glass. And there are multiple layers of glass, each one containing a different world, a different time, all superimposed over each other and shifting dizzyingly. Odin’s presence is unforgeable, and Loki has no doubt that he shares a room with his father. But something is unraveling. What was a cool breeze before suddenly feels like a hot breath burning his skin. The bandages were actually chains all along, the soft bed is sharp rock, biting into his skin. And on his chest-- Thor’s hammer. Pressing down harder and harder…

The little air Loki had been able to take in is suddenly rendered meaningless. His whole body starts to quiver. He needs to get away. Odin will return him to the Chitauri. Odin will kill him and it will not be an act of mercy. Odin is the Chitauri. Odin is _him._ Odin has been his sole tormentor the whole time.

“Loki, lie still. You must lie still!”

A command, but Loki cannot obey. He doesn’t want to. He can hear Odin moving as if to approach and the adrenaline that courses through his body jerks him to the side. The Allfather will continue tearing out parts of him until there is nothing left.

“Stay away from me!” Loki cries, his voice shredded beyond recognition and the injuries in his mouth slurring his words. He suddenly finds himself on the edge of the bed, moving despite the flames of pain that burn every part of his body. “Don’t touch me, stay away--“

He falls, hitting the ground heavily. And though the pain itself is light compared to what he had been experiencing for months with the Chitauri, it is more than he can bear at that moment. Loki screams as hard as he can, curling into himself and willing everything away.

Why didn’t he kill him? Why didn’t he kill him? Why only a tiny blade and not a devastating blast of magic? Why only cuffs and a muzzle rather than an evisceration? Why the laughter and the torment instead of a swift end? Why the shackles around his ankles instead of a rope around his throat?

He distantly registers someone else entering the room. “My Lord, what did you do?”

“I did nothing! He only just woke up, he refused to lie in peace!”

“Please step aside your Excellency.”

Loki feels strange hands touching him, soft and feminine. They repel him for some reason. He can’t stand their gentle touch and he almost wants to scream “just hit me! Please let me feel something… sweet…”

But he doesn’t, because the new person is whispering words of power meant to set him blissfully asleep. The sound of Asgardian magic pulls a moment of clarity from him, and for a brief moment he lets himself feel comfort at the ancient sound. A few tears slip down his face while his body stills, and the grip on reality he’d struggled to regain is torn from him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I definitely owe everyone an apology for that wait. I can only give the standard "delayed-fic" excuses of school and more school. I'd like to thank Tom Hiddleston's ridiculous stunt at Comic-con for reminding me why I love Loki, and the user who PM'd me two days ago for reminding me that I should probably get my ass in gear on this thing. I dedicate this chapter to you. As it is, however, I realize that this chapter itself probably isn't that satisfying in terms of plot, and it basically ends the same as the last chapter. But I SWEAR I have the next chapter (which is more plotty) in the oven and it's almost ready. Thanks so much to everyone who has stuck with me through my pompous verbosity and rude hiatus.


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